Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

“Of course.”

“I thought we could sit with her on the front porch when Charles and Lee start the fireworks. Just so I can help her inside if she doesn’t like them.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the basket.

“Kristen?” There was a familiar tone in Mitch’s voice. The same one she’d heard several times since the county meeting—heavy, concerned.

Hesitating, she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Are you . . . ?” He stopped, looked at Sadie, then raked a hand through his hair. “If you have time, Emmy wants to speak with you before the guests start getting here. I told her I’d let you know.”

“I’ll go in as soon as Sadie and I finish this.” After turning to the side, she sifted through the flowers and snagged several silk ribbons from the bottom of the basket. “We’ll need three different colors of bows. Would you like to pick them, Sadie?”

Mitch watched them for a few moments, a strained smile appearing as Sadie chatted about which bows to use with which flowers. “I’m gonna take a shower and change. Then I’ll help Charles direct everyone in to park. You okay with things here?”

Kristen nodded, then glanced up to smile at him once before he walked away. Her eyes followed his movements toward the house, and her belly fluttered at the strong line of his shoulders, lean waist, and slim hips. And the thought of his quiet intelligence, unending patience, and tender touch made it even more difficult to pull away from him. Mitch was as magnificent on the inside as he was on the outside, and it had become increasingly harder for her to dodge his intense gaze and searching questions.

But it wouldn’t be fair to him for her to open up and take their relationship to a deeper level when she knew she’d be leaving soon. Only how in the world was she going to look him in the eyes and tell him?

“How ’bout this, Ms. Kristen?”

She blinked, then focused on Sadie’s small hands, which clutched a crooked arrangement of hydrangeas tied with a lopsided bow. “I think . . .” Her attention drifted up to Sadie’s big, happy smile, and a rush of affection swept through her. “I think it’s perfect,” she whispered. “Just perfect.”

If possible, Sadie’s smile grew bigger, and she leaned across the table and kissed Kristen’s cheek. The peck of Sadie’s lips, the sweet chime of her laughter, and the sharp scent of freshly cut flower stems brought tears to Kristen’s eyes.

Choking back a sob, she wrapped her arms around Sadie and hugged her close, wondering how she’d manage to walk away from Sadie and Dylan. And if she’d be able to find a way in her heart to ever truly let go of them.

Twenty minutes later, after the final bows had been tied and the floral arrangement had been set up on a small porch table by the swing, Kristen and Sadie joined Emmy and Ruth Ann in the kitchen.

“Something smells wonderful,” Kristen said, standing on the threshold of the kitchen and watching the two women work.

Ruth Ann patted hamburger meat between her hands and smiled. “Garlic, oregano, and oni—”

“Onion powder,” Emmy chimed in, smacking an even hamburger patty on a tray covered in wax paper and full of dozens more like it. “The secret to anything on a grill is onion powder.”

Kristen laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Emmy’s expression dimmed, and she muttered, “Won’t we all.”

Wincing, Kristen smoothed a hand over Sadie’s hair. “Sadie did an excellent job setting up the floral arrangements. If you have anything you need taken outside to the grill, I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“Now, that’s a plan.” Ruth Ann clapped her hands together and waved Sadie over. “Come here, hon, and we’ll get this first round of hamburgers and buns out to the gentleman manning the grill.”

Emmy held up a hand. “And I’d like you to come with me, Kristen, if you have a moment?”

After washing her hands in the kitchen sink, Emmy led the way down the hall to her bedroom, opened the door, and went into the walk-in closet. Kristen hovered nearby, admiring the blue handwoven afghan folded on the foot of Emmy’s bed.

“This afghan is beautiful, Emmy.”

“Keeps my feet warm at night,” Emmy called out from inside the closet.

Kristen fingered the soft edges. “Did you make it?”

“Nope. Ruth Ann did. She brought it by yesterday. These hands of mine haven’t touched a needle and yarn in years. As a matter of fact, I can’t do most things I did years ago, but there is one thing I can still manage to do, and that’s shop. When Ruth Ann took me into town yesterday to pick up food for the party, we stopped by the dress shop.” Emmy reemerged from the closet, holding a pretty off-the-shoulder denim shift dress. “What do you think?”

Kristen moved closer, ran a hand over the soft fabric, and inspected the elegant neckline. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.”